


I Hear Your Voice from Afar

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment: Person A of your ship has gone rogue, leaving everything behind save a few articles of clothing. The only explanation they’ve offered is a goodbye note to Person B. What does the note say? How does Person B react?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hear Your Voice from Afar

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops.

_I know you will find this._

_It is… difficult for me to write this letter, just as it is unfair of me to have left at all. And I have left. As difficult as it will be to accept, I must ask that you do not look for me._

_You doubtless want an explanation. I have one, but I shall keep it to myself. You trust me – or you used to. Trust me now. You will live a long and full life without me. It can be a happy one, if you accept that I am gone._

_Forget me._

_I will never forget you._

 

* * *

 

When they found him, he was outside, staring at the stormclouds gathering in the horizon.

 

They had no questions for him, beyond whether or not he wanted to go back inside. He refused curtly, and the tone of his voice was enough to send them away. It was clear that he did not want company.

 

He stood still as the rain came, as the earth turned to mud under his feet and squelched up through his toes. The water soaked him through and through, and he shivered in the single layer of clothes he wore.

 

Right now, the prospect of a ‘long and full life’ was laughable. The idea of it being happy was an impossibility.

 

He’d burned the letter as soon as he’d finished reading it.

 

If he was to forget, there could be no reminders.

 

* * *

 

As requested, he made no effort to look.

 

After all, the chances of finding _him_ when the whole of Arda was at _his_ disposal… very slim. And who was to say that _he_ wouldn’t be ambushed, or stabbed in the back? Such things were possible even under normal circumstances.

 

Time continued on. No one mentioned _him_ – at least, not in his presence – and the ache… the ache stayed the same. It was impossible to forget _him_ , it was impossible to forget how _he_ had touched his life. He’d sooner be able to forget the dragon, or to forget his own parents.

 

He could not forget.

 

Was he truly better off for not knowing why he was now alone? Had there _really_ been a reason, or had _he_ just been tired?

 

Most nights he would wake up in a cold sweat. Not because of the missing warmth in his bed – and oh, how keenly he missed another body by his side – but because of fear. Fear plagued him like demons clawing at his mind, snarling and taunting him from every angle, laughing that _he_ could be within a league and he’d never know.

 

He’d never know.

 

Sometimes the temptation would rise. He could forsake everyone and take to the road. Battle his way – figuratively and literally – to _his_ side. Beg that they never be parted again.

 

But always he stayed. Always he cast his pack aside, always he left his coat in a heap on the ground. Always his sword clattered to the floor.

 

Always he would stare into the fire, and remember the way the parchment curled into the flames.

 

Even if they ever did meet again – what would he say?

 

* * *

 

 

_Bilbo, why did you leave me?_


End file.
